


Isla

by Indybaggins



Category: Whose Line Is It Anyway? RPF
Genre: M/M, Sexual Tension, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-02
Updated: 2011-11-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 03:36:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1154333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Indybaggins/pseuds/Indybaggins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeff travels for pleasure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Isla

 

It’s swelteringly hot, too many bodies moving, breathing, and rubbing together. The sweat clings Jeff’s shirt to his skin; his tailored linen pants feel tantalizingly light trapping his half-hard dick. He’s only three hours off the plane and he’s been aroused since, he can’t even remember, the moment he stepped into this dingy, boiling atmosphere, the too-loud music vibrating under his ribs. Ever body he passes touches freely, hands groping at him, slapping his butt, squeezing him, desire easily fulfilled at every turn. It’s amazing. 

He’s traveled before for exactly this, doing what he’s too discreet to do in the US, but it’s never been quite like this, _Puerto Rico_ , this vast mass of people who all seem to part and then close in for him. Men around him are dancing without their shirts, defined chests, glittering wet with sweat lighting up under the rhythmic flashes of light. Every person who he dares to lock eyes with matter-of-factly comes closer, meshes their slick body to his, rubs their hot hard-on against the seam of his pants. He feels _wanted_ , he feels whole, alive. 

Jeff is looking, of course, letting his body steer him through this vibrating mass towards something, someone, anything that will make him see stars and nothing more. Between the sea of movement (and there are so many incredibly fuckable guys, so many) he notices a dark-skinned man, muscled chest bare with hard little nipples. He’s wearing nothing but a tiny white G-string and Jeff swallows as he lets his eyes trail over it. The man catches him at it and laughs knowingly, eyes crinkling up in mirth. Jeff good-naturedly smiles back and somehow, that was what did it because before he knows it he is pouring a shot glass over the man’s chest and licking it off, sucking the little nub of a nipple into his mouth. The alcohol tingles and makes his lips feel numb, and then he’s moving upwards and they’re kissing. He tastes rum on the lips of the guy, wet spit, deliciously open-mouthed decadence. They move to the beat of the music, grind in between another drawn-out kiss, it’s messy, it’s real, and he’s enjoying the heck out of it. The man’s body is radiating heat, and Jeff pokes his fingers into the white G-string to make him groan into his ear. 

 

They take it outside some time after that, into the noisy night air of some boulevard lined with palm trees and cars, engines roaring, people shouting, exhaust fumes and the sharp smell of sweat and cologne on the people they pass. There’s music, even there, some samba beat that Jeff wants to dance to, but his companion drags him along into a maze of small, garbage-smelling streets, hands promising release, eyes dark and beautiful. Jeff is aware he needs to be careful, alcohol already blurring some of the edges of what he thinks he should do and shouldn’t, but he has three condoms in his back pocket, next to no money on him and he hasn’t been laid in over six months so really, he feels like it’s worth the risk. 

The guy had acquired a pair of jeans before leaving the club (and thank god, because otherwise Jeff might have been tempted to get him off right there against a wall somewhere,) and pulls a key from his pocket before guiding him through an old, iron-cast door, past several flights of badly-lit stairs and then into a room. Jeff gets a quick impression of a small but clean space, bed in the middle, before the man motions for him to unzip his pants, kneels and takes Jeff’s dick into his mouth. Jeff simply nods and tries not to gasp at the first slick touch of lips. It’s immediately overwhelmingly good because it’s been so long, his nerves begging for release from the moment it starts and all he can do is enjoy and try not to let his knees buckle as he comes within minutes. The man doesn’t mind, just winks, stands up and lets his own erection rub the side of Jeff’s leg, and then the small of his back, the curve of his ass, and Jeff feels the rush of desire through his entire body and says “Yes!” and then “Si!” 

They match together very well and he gets fucked expertly for longer than he had hoped for, until he is hard again, taking breaks, breathing together not to come yet, and when he finally does it’s fireworks and inside-out all over toe-curlingly good and just a tad sleazy, because his companion grins, obviously pleased with a job well-done, rolls over and then goes straight to sleep. Jeff tells himself he will get up and go. Just one more minute to enjoy... 

 

He wakes up the next morning alone, naked, sticky and sore with purple-bruised love-bites, a pounding head-ache and a phone number written in magic marker across his left hipbone. And laughs, of course.

 

 

 

 


End file.
